Trampled Flowers
by ICanMakeTheStarsDance
Summary: Princess Elaine Lefford, of the royal family of Astor, has had a rather shocking life for one of royal blood, after being left at the altar, in front of thousands of press, and spectators, when she was twenty years old. Now, being twenty-two, she spends her days with her elder sister, who is heir to the throne. Elaine never expected to have affections for a prince, however.
1. Chapter 1

"The flowers aren't placed correctly."  
>Before my butler can fix the bouquet himself, I reach out both my hands, and turn the bundle of white flowers, to my liking. I then study it, and decide it's time to move on down the aisle way. Servants of my own family, and countless others from the services we've called on for this wedding, are bustling around, much like bees in a hive, working for their Queen. I guess that isn't too far off of what they're doing, since I am of the royal family.<br>"Miss Elaine, I'm not certain if it's appropriate for you to oversee the preparations so closely." Petyr, my butler, speaks behind me while I stride ahead on the red carpet, not anywhere near the altar yet. My wedding is to be extravagant, and the walk down the aisle to my future husband will be no less extravagant than everything else, so it's a rather long pathway, splitting the hundreds of rows of pews for the guests that will sit there in less than two days. The train of my gown will look outstanding on the walk down-it nearly makes the dress double its size.  
>"Oh, Petyr, I just wanted to see everything." I sigh, turning my head to look at him. Petyr is two years older than me, the age of my sister, and he stands at my height. I always thought he could pass for a brother of mine, with his brown hair a shade darker, along with certain features of his face being similiar. One of the only differences are his eyes, which are a lovely shade of blue. Petyr is too handsome to be a butler, but he swears this will be his true love, his job, for the rest of his life.<br>"My apologies, Elaine." He's holding his planner, filled with only my appointments. "The Queen wants you at the last-minute alterations to your dress. We must be leaving soon."  
>I stretch out my time to take another look at the enormous church, to see the many people eyeing me with great interest, or hurrying to make everything perfect. I could almost fit in with some of them, with the way I'm dressed, I could almost pass for a high-up business woman, ready to shoot off orders for the pattern of the silk on the pillars, how many programs (which were engraved on thick, creamy paper) there should be for a pew. But I can't pass here for anything else other than a princess, set to marry a Lord's son in forty-eight hours.<br>"Alright, we'll go." I turn on my short wedged heels, and make my way toward the front of the church, where security will be, keeping back paparazzi from taking pictures, which would ruin the surprise of what my ceremony looks like for the people of Astor, along with my car for today. I nearly make a mistake-Petyr has to stop to hand me sunglasses, to hide my eyes from flashing lights. It'll irritate my eyes, since I've taken to wearing contacts most of the time, and no one likes the bright lights in their face, anyhow.  
>The car ride to the palace, where the designer of the gown, Jean Pierre, has set up a room specifically to work on my dress, is quiet and calm. I check my personal phone, going through some pictures I've taken with my sister, Genevieve, who is set to be Queen of Astor, when she turns twenty-five. Genevieve is in every way mature and demur, but she still has a lot of preparation to do. She'll likely be there, as well, with my mother, to see my wedding dress. Petyr is very kind to my sister, almost too kind for my mother's liking, but he is always respectful and dutiful to anyone of the royal family, Lefford. I wonder how he'll take to accompanying me to the castle where I'll be living as a married woman after this.<br>My soon-to-be-husband is the son of close family friend, Lord Christopher D'Aubigne, Fredrick D'Aubigne. He is quite handsome, and only a year older than I am, with dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and a charming smile. I wouldn't say I'm in love with him, as this is a marriage of diplomatic purpose, but I can say that I can grow to love him. As for now, I am only close to him in the way a friend would be, but that's enough to start out with. My own mother and father hadn't met each other more than four times before they were united in matrimony, but they are a couple I see myself hoping to be with my husband some day.  
>"Your Highness." Petyr gets my attention from my phone, and I close it, slipping it in the small handbag I got for my eighteenth birthday, when I had my presentation ball. The door is opened for me, and I slide out as gracefully as I can, ignoring calls from reporters, closely followed by bodyguards and Petyr. My entrance in the palace is greeted by a few maids, who gladly take my jacket, and ask if I'm in need of refreshment.<br>"A glass of water, thank you." I nod, and am directed to the alterations room. I've been here many times before, but the sight of the dress, my dress, still surprises me. It is now on a dummy, and it's still as gorgeous as ever, though on the bodice I can see where some other beads and details were added and finished. The sleeves are lace, the bodice, along with many the second layer of the skirt, is silk. The outer layer of the skirt is the same silver-white lace as the sleeves, and the bodice has small pearls that mimic the same pattern. It is indeed a dress fit for a princess.  
>"Elaine!" My mother calls, arms outstretched, and I gladly go to her for a hug. She is in an outfit that she usually wears, a skirt, blouse, and a fitted jacket. She is the embodiment of queenly elegance, and yet still, a mother to me. My mother passed on her dark brown hair (though hers is showing greys now) to both her daughters, but her eyes she gave to me. Genevieve has my father's shiny green eyes, that share the same trait of his, always looking as though he might laugh. My sister's attention had been on a maid, who brought me my drink, but now she smiled gently at me.<br>"Here's your water, sister." Genevieve hands the glass to me, and as soon as I'm finished taking a refreshing drink, and I set it down, she wraps me in a hug, a tight squeeze which I return. Jean Pierre is nowhere to be found-and my mother tells me he sent a promising designer of his company in his stead.  
>The promising designer is a young man every bit as elegant as one of noble blood. His clothes are not as popping as Monsieur Pierre's-rather, the opposite of it, a quiet beauty. He is in crisp, black slacks, and a button-up black shirt. His manners are magnificent, kissing my hand, and bowing, introducing himself as a Mister Edmund Carver.<br>"Your Highness, I would like to see you in your dress now. Today, unlike the last times, I've brought the accessories. It's rather like a dress rehearsal."  
>His words remind me that the real dress rehearsal, for the wedding, will be done tonight. I will practice my walk down the aisle, arm-in-arm with my father, only without my dress.<br>It takes no time to fit the dress around me. I am changed into the undergarments and such that I will be wearing, during the wedding, and then the dress fits me with ease. I am helped out into the middle of the room, where there is a pedestal. My mother covers her mouth with her hands, something she's done at every appointment, and Genevieve looks over me with a gracious nod. I already know how I look in the dress, but I can't help but study my reflection again.  
>The dress does fit perfectly, like a glove, as the expression goes. Even though my hair isn't curled or twisted up as it will be, it is beautiful. Edmund approved, and then, the accessories are added. A thin diamond necklace, from the vaults of my own family, worn by my great-grandmother, when she was married herself. A bracelet, from Jean Pierre. Small things, but I adore them with the dress.<br>I look like a bride, and steadily, I prepare myself to be just so in two days.

The appointment went smoothly, I thanked Edmund, and sent my thanks for Monsieur Pierre along with him. The rehearsal went the same, as well, though the priest, nor my father, would have it that Fredrick and I share a kiss just yet. I laughed at the jest, and Fredrick smiled, though something in those endearing hazel eyes almost hinted at sadness, but I soon did not think of it, as I wanted to see the cake. I did always have a sweet tooth, once, even when I was a child, I was found hiding from my nanny, in a closet, with chocolate over my face. Of course, I was punished, but the love for sugar remained.  
>The Day came, and so did a feeling of nerves. My mother and sister were dressed in equal stages of elegance, my sister's companion being one of the suitors my parents would like for her to take as her husband, after her being crowned Queen. However, they went to church ahead of me, while my father and I shared each other's company in the carriage on the way to the church, nearly like a parade, with the people cheering, and I would smile, and wave, my father and I making each other laugh. He shared the story of when he first held me in his arms, after my birth, and while we were positioned for the walk down the aisle, in the front of the church, with the lucky spectators that earned their places there, even with security, I couldn't help but give my father, the King, a kiss on the cheek.<br>"My dear, you really have grown into a lady." My father's words made me smile, and the march to the altar began, the choir singing as lovely as they could ever. The flowers I were checking two days before, are amazing, the white striking against the red carpet. The girls carrying my train behind me are daughters of noble families, one girl even being Fredrick's niece. All eyes are turned to me, and I smile modestly, not grinning, as this is a church, but showing my happiness. And I am happy, I am making my family happy, and I know that I can find happiness with Fredrick, as well.  
>My groom is standing at the altar, in military regalia, as he served for my country when he was nineteen, and still does serve, even though we are in a time of peace. He looks regal, a prince stepped out from the pages of a fairy tale. My heart is pounding-I can't tell whether I'm scared or excited. I wonder if he feels the same.<br>The music quiets down, and my father presents me to my groom, and I gracefully move to face him, the train girls spreading out my train on the steps as they were taught. I know I'm not supposed to, but I stop the eldest, a girl of ten, Fredrick's niece, and sweetly tell her they did a grand job. She smiles, and goes to stand next to the others.  
>I then turn to face Fredrick, holding my bouquet, which flowers match the ones decorating the pews. He smiles at me, but again I catch the hint of sadness I caught in his eyes during the rehearsals. My own smile falters. The priest says the vows that are given to those of the Lefford royal family during weddings, even though I am to take Fredrick's last name. We repeat them.<br>And then there comes the sealing words. The priest opens his mouth. "Sir Fredrick Cornelius D'Aubigne, will you-"  
>"I can't."<br>The priest is taken by surprise, and I'm at a loss of words. Those in the upper rows, being the royal family, and his own, are immediately confused. My heart feels as though it will explode, but I'm oddly calm, just shocked.  
>Fredrick lifts a hand to my cheek. "Elaine, I do adore you, but I'm not-I don't think I can fall in love with you, the same as you might with me."<br>His heart had to lay somewhere else. I feel tears come to my eyes, but I nod. His lips brush my cheek in forgiveness. The crowd doesn't know what's happening, and my father stands, in rare anger.  
>"Fredrick," The King begins, but I stop him.<br>"N-no, Father. Let him go."  
>Fredrick whispers his forgiveness. And then he leaves, striding down the aisle, his own father trying to stop him. He'll be escorted out somehow. No one knows what to do, but only my sister seems to. She hugs me, immediately comforting me while I let my tears fall into her shoulder. I don't know how to feel. I thought I was to be happy with this man. I thought I could be happy with this man.<br>I'm taken to a back room, my family following behind, the guests on the brink of an uproar. My father only says one thing, bitterly, when we are all gathered in a private room, where I am trying not to stain this white dress.  
>"The press is going to have a damned field day."<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Two Years Later**

The plane flight relaxes me, and I gladly accept the stewardess' offer of a glass of champagne, flipping through a magazine, one of the tabloid ones of my country. The pages on the royal family is still abuzz with my sister and I's trip to Nobel Michel, though there's a chance we will be staying in Charles. Charles is a beautiful country, but I haven't been in more than three years. However, an article catches my eye, and my lips thin in distaste.  
>"<em>We're Nearing the Date of What Could Have Been Princess Elaine's Anniversary:<br>We all know the devastating details of Princess Elaine Lefford's "ditch at the altar" but where is Fredrick D'Aubigne now?_"  
>I don't care to continue reading it. I toss the magazine in the empty spot in front of me, as my sister is a seat or two behind me, busy on her pager or laptop, something of the nature. Genevieve is to become Queen Genevieve of Astor in a little less than twelve months, and she has had more appointments than I've ever seen her to have before. The stewardess comes with my champagne. I thank her, and gulp down a drink or two on impulse, trying to calm this streak of nerves. I despise the fact that this bothers me so much, but who wouldn't be bothered by such a thing?<br>As for Fredrick, I heard he ran away to be with a woman he was rumored to be with before having joined the Astorian military. They married six months after the incident. I didn't cry at the news, I even sent my congratulations. Sometimes I wonder what she's like, but I don't want to pain myself to know. It would bother me too much, and look odd.  
>I've even heard his wife is pregnant now.<br>"That's enough champagne." I say to myself, aloud, setting the glass on the tray the stewardess left behind. I stand up, and make my way to my sister's seat in the plane. I surprise her a bit by taking a seat in front of her.  
>"We'll be landing soon, Elaine." Is all she says, actually taking the time to turn her attention to me. She seems tired, all the time. I wonder if she finds herself ready to be monarch. She glances at me, and randomly takes a lock of my hair. "You were told there was a party being held at Nobel Michel tonight, correct?"<br>I nod, but roll my eyes, rather "commoner" of me. "I don't think I'll be dancing much. After all, my almost-union is still a popular topic." The weeks, months after that, it was almost all the news could show. My sister's lips quirk up in a sad smile.  
>"Oh, don't say that. After all Roberto Button, prince of Altaria, has been invited. He's rather...a ladies' man." Genevieve snickers, sounding like a teenager again. Speaking of which, a random memory pops in my head.<br>"Button? Wasn't he the one that whoo'd you at your sixteenth birthday galla?" I had been only fourteen at the time, so Roberto Button was the perfect prince to me. Of course, I hadn't been asked to dance by any other than old noblemen, since it was a rule. Also, I always thought my dress had a say in the matter. It had been pink, and poofy. My mother thought it was darling, while my older sister had laughed at the sight of it.  
>Genevieve nodded. "He's not one of my suitors, though. That would be an ill match, as he's supposed to be King of his country, and I, Queen of mine. Besides," Genevieve continued, waving her hand, "I don't believe he's my ideal personality type."<br>I used to think about who my sister would end up with. Like there wouldn't be men beating each other to become a candidate of marriage with her, but I wonder, who exactly is Genevieve's type?  
>"Your Highness', we are set to land in five minutes. Please, secure your seat belts." The familiar voice of Petyr took us out of our conversation. He was sitting up with the flight attendants, where he could make calls if necessary, but he interrupted to inform us. He was still my personal butler, even though I had maids, he was still the one I trusted most.<br>"Thank you, Petyr." I say, doing so with my seat belt. My sister watches him go with interest, and turns to me.  
>"Honestly, why hasn't your butler married yet?"<br>I am surprised at her question. "Genevieve! He could still hear you!" I chide, but she pays no mind.  
>"Elaine, has he even ever had a girlfriend?" She brushes some brown hair behind her ear, and I go through my time of knowing Petyr. No...he never has, that I know of.<br>My thoughts are cut of by the pilot saying we're landing, and there's a bump or two, much like turbulence. One of the few things I dislike about planes. I suppose the other things are just when I can't get my orders precisely the way I want them. I really know nothing outside my royal life.  
>The walk through the airport is every bit as hectic as I expected. Gaping passengers, photographers, while our security, and Petyr, along with my sister's favorite servant, Cyril, get us safely in our car. First, we will make our hotel in Charles, and drive the rest of the way to Nobel Michel. At least, that was the intended plan.<br>Petyr is the one who informs is of a change in plans, closing his phone he uses for business. "Your Highness', Lord Michel has called, and has generously opened up Nobel Michel to us. He's invited those of immediate royal families to stay after the party."  
>I don't know what to think of the news, but I know what the response should be. "Tell Lord Michel, thank you for his kindness."<br>"We'll gladly accept the offer." My sister surprises me a second time, "After all, any noble who is in favor of Lord Michel has the upper hand in many things." I can't help but agree. Genevieve is the future queen, and I must follow her.  
>So, instead of stopping in Charles, we head on, though there were a few kinks along the way, mainly with reporters and the like. But, we make it to Nobel Michel in the evening, an hour or two before the party, so we must hurry.<br>Petyr has my things sent to the room that was prepared for me, Genevieve's being right across the hall. This palace is heavily guarded-Lord only knows how many opportunities of assassination, and kidnapping there could be without protection here. I follow my sister up the steps, sunglasses over my eyes, as usual in this situation. We are both greeted, bowed to, hands kissed in gracious manner, by a good-looking butler, with green eyes, and brown hair.  
>"Your Highness', I am Zain, Lord Michel's butler. These maids will show you to your rooms, and help you prepare for the party tonight. We are most honored you accepted our invitation."<br>"Thank you very much, Zain. I would like to introduce you to our servants. Petyr, who is my butler," Petyr gives a polite, short bow. "And Cyril, my sister's servant." Cyril mimics the same bow, his ginger hair falling into his grey eyes. I finish my introduction, and thank Zain again.  
>I am shown to my room by a maid, with a tight, black bun. She is most kind, but rather by-the-rules type. My sister finishes changing before me, and I ask the maid to leave while we have a second or two to talk.<br>"Genevieve, your dress is stunning." I say. Hers is a dark sapphire dress, with shining sequins hand-sewn in. It's a one-shoulder, and is slit up one side up to her knee. While it might have been inappropriate on someone else, Genevieve makes it look elegant, and classy.  
>My own is a sleeveless evening gown, dark green, with my hair pinned up. "You look lovely, as well, sister." My sister takes time to study the wallpaper, and I know she has something to say.<br>"Oh, what is it?"  
>Genevieve takes her time, walking about the room, her high heels clacking. "This party, we both know you'll be given attention."<br>"Not in the best way-"  
>She shoots me a look to be quiet, the kind eyes, a stern storm of green. "Not the point. However, our parents knew that, and they would like it very much, if you would be able to choose a suitable match, for yourself."<br>I narrow my eyes, and twist the gold bangle on my wrist. So my parents, want me to find another husband?  
>"You can tell our mother and father, both, that I will marry when I'm well and ready." I say, with a hint of steel in my voice.<br>Genevieve nears the door, our conversation is reaching its end. "Oh, please, Elaine, stop acting like a child. You're twenty-two. Mother and Father never said you had to get married this instant." I lower my eyes, annoyed that she's right, and I feel some shame. "Just appreciate the handsome princes, and dance with one or two. That's not a difficult task-you're not hideous."  
>That being said, Genevieve steps out, and my maid, steps back in. She asks in the smooth voice of hers.<br>"Your Highness, do you need anything else?"  
>I shake my head, standing up, and smoothing the folds of my evening gown, letting it cover my pair of heels.<br>"Not at all. I'm ready to take leave."  
>And I'm shown the way to the ballroom.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

I've always liked parties, I really have. I'm never the most outrageous or fun person there, of course, but I know how to enjoy myself. However, when my name is announced at Nobel Michel, and I can almost feel the collective gasp the guest were holding back from giving, I have to work hard at keeping my composure.  
>I'm escorted by some kind old nobleman from Philip, who politely kisses my hand and leaves me be near the drinks, and such. My sister's presentation goes smoother than mine did, but I can still feel stares on me. Damn him, oh, I finally think it! Damn Fredrick, all my reputation is now is what <em>he<em> chose to do. I manage a smile for my sister, but still go off in search of a drink. I shouldn't turn to drink when I feel this way, but for now, I have. I find a servant with a tray, with glasses of wine. At first, I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose at the fact that it's white wine, as Astor is known for its red wine exports, but I decide to try it, saying a word of thanks to the server.  
>I take a drink, easily finding my sister in the crowd. She certainly has a charming aura, and everyone takes notice of her presence. I drink my wine, actually finding to quite like the taste, and am found by Petyr.<br>On an impulse, I hug him, happy to have someone to talk to. He looks at me, bewildered. "Petyr, you dress up well." I say, looking him up and down, noticing the tuxedo he's wearing. And with his hair slicked back like it is now, he could pass for royalty midst them. He smiles at my compliment.  
>"You look lovely as well, Miss Elaine." I nod, and turn my gaze towards my sister.<br>"What do you think of my sister's dress, Petyr?" I ask, my own intentions behind the question not exactly of the best nature. However, I've had my suspicions on who was in love with who-Petyr supposedly loved his job more than his entire being, but I was beginning to think not. His blue eyes soften at the sight of Genevieve, smiling widely while speaking to a Lord and Lady from Charles.  
>"Miss Genevieve certainly is fit to be a queen." Petyr says softly, but then turns to me, back into his butler-esque stature. "I must leave you know, Your Highness." He nods, and slips his arm out from mine, headed to start a conversation with Zain. A childish thought occurs in my mind, of butlers speaking only of butler things, but now I know they have lives outside their jobs, however hard they might try to suppress that fact from being known. I set my half-finished glass on another's serving tray, though that's not perhaps the correct conduct.<br>I am stopped by a kind, familiar face. Immediately recalling the conversation with Genevieve in the plane, I know who he is.  
>"Prince Roberto Button." I extend my hand for him to kiss, as is mannerly. He smirks at my recalling him so quickly.<br>"Princess Elaine Lefford," Roberto says, kissing the top of my hand. "You look beautiful."  
>Had I been that fourteen year old girl again, at my sister's party, I would have wanted to faint in his arms. But I'm twenty-two, and he seems to have matured, as well. Or, I'm not interested enough in him. I want to ask if he's here just to see how I'm fairing, when he perks up at a sight behind me.<br>"Ah, Joshua, you finally cared to show up." Roberto speaks in a teasing tone, and I turn to see the Prince of Dres Van, Joshua Lieben. Astor has always been on good terms with that country, among the majority here, but I haven't made many frequent encounters with the princes. I believe there was once to be a betrothal between I and Edward Levaincois, but my mother decided that was entirely too old-fashioned for her taste.  
>Joshua's appearance reminds me again of the type of quiet beauty, with his eyes that have an endearing feel to them, though he's expression seems as though he doesn't care to be here. However, he manages a polite bow. "Princess Elaine." He says in a noble tone, and turns to Roberto, who smiles widely at him.<br>"I wasn't informed of Astor's appearance here, forgive me." Joshua states, and Roberto lets out a chuckle.  
>"Silly prince, check any news paper. They always have lists of which countries appear here." He takes a drink from his glass, and excuses himself. "Be nice, I'm tired of seeing you scaring away women."<br>His comment strikes me as odd, I wouldn't have expected Prince Joshua to ever scare anyone. However, I only clear my throat. "Prince Joshua, you look rather tired. Is everything alright?" I manage to snag another drink from a tray, and offer one to him, as well. The prince takes it without a word, and doesn't answer my question until after he takes a sip.  
>"Everything is grand, I suppose." I get the feeling Joshua Lieben isn't a name to be associated with a social butterfly. I almost want to leave, but being rude is highly frowned upon. However, I am surprised by the next thing he says.<br>"Might I have a dance with you, Princess Elaine?"  
>I have to stop myself from choking on my white wine. I manage to hide my surprise, and I set down my glass next to his, on a table no one is sitting at. "I would be honored, Prince Joshua."<br>The dance floor isn't anywhere near empty, but we certainly don't manage to hide in the crowd. I know how stares feel like, even when you can't see the people watching you. It's something I have grown used to, since my childhood. Still, I know why they are staring, and in a way, it unsettles me. I don't believe I've had a proper dance with anyone other than a family member, since my engagement to Fredrick. Then, it would be expected for me to dance with him at every event we shared together. It wasn't as if I had wanted to dance with anyone else at the time, anyhow. Afterwards, I must have had the aura of one who didn't want to associate with anyone. I didn't mind, then. But it's nice that Prince Joshua is the one to take me out of that hiatus.  
>His hand sets on my waist, and I rest my hand on his shoulder. A simple waltz. When I was in my teens, I used to have ballroom dance lessons one every week. This is indeed simple, but elegant. I feel as though it's perfect for me. Subtle grace. I hope I fit the bill of that, no matter how odd I end up being.<br>Joshua doesn't make a start of conversation right away, only leading to the music. However, he manages to ask a question. "Did you accept the invitation to stay at Nobel Michel?" He inquires, eyes now on my face. I nod.  
>"It was kind of Lord Michel to do so. I wasn't too certain about it, but my sister wished for it. So, I followed her." I hope I haven't come out sounding like a jealous, kid sister. I'm not, I'm truly not. I even feel pity for my sister, having so much work to be done for her to be made Queen of our country.<br>Prince Joshua merely nods. He really isn't talkative at all. I wonder if his social graces were enforced lessons, in Dres Van. I always did hear that their upbringing is rather different. To break the silence, though it isn't truly, the music still keeping us perfectly in tune with each other's fluid motions, I ask a question that's been on my mind.  
>"Prince Joshua, did you happen to ask me to dance out of pity?"<br>My inquiry strikes a cord. "I don't take charity cases, if you don't take that literally." Joshua says, his tone with just a hint of steel underneath. I know he doesn't mean he doesn't work for legitimate charity organizations, but I still stiffen at his answer, my hand clasping his own just a little tighter out of tension.  
>"My apologies. The incident just seems to follow me everywhere." I say, honestly, lowering my eyes. Joshua seems curious, even though I know he knows of what happened two years ago. I don't look up until he leans in near my face, catching me by surprise.<br>"Elaine, the music has stopped." He whispers, and drops his hands from their positions on me. I try to not let my minor embarrassment show, and I curtsy, he returning it with a bow, so we show we are done with our dance. Light chatter feels the room, with laughter here and there. I smile for Joshua.  
>"Thank you, for letting me dance with you." I compliment, and he opens his mouth to do the same, before a woman, rather, girl, who must be on the brink of nineteen, politely interrupts, asking Prince Joshua for a dance. I can almost tell he's about to refuse.<br>"Oh, you two will enjoy the next song. Prince Joshua, don't you think her dress would look lovely when she's dancing?" I nod her in her direction (her scarlet gown really is pretty), and she beams. He seems to know the deal.  
>"Of course." And they make their way to the floor. I do know how to get my way out of situations, as I sensed needless questions would have arisen out of that conversation. I set off to find my sister, returning greetings from those who bow lightly in my way, calling me "Your Highness." A random thought pops into my head, of what amusing chaos it would be if a messenger came into this room, gasping for "Your Highness" because of some urgent message. There are quite a few princes and princesses here, and I believe the King and Queen of Charles made an appearance.<br>I find my sister just finishing a conversation, rather mere gossip, with a Duchess of this-and-that (it's late, and I can't find it to remember so many noble names, titles, and places). I stand beside her. Genevieve has already danced with ten young men, and I had noticed her sharing a laugh with Roberto Button earlier, amid a lively dance. I don't know if she's entirely sober, but she isn't inappropriately, family-shaming intoxicated, either. Her cheeks are flushed, her green eyes sparkling. Perhaps I should send for Cyril and Petyr, and get her to bed, as well as I. For some reason, I'm already tired from tonight.  
>"Genevieve, why don't we go to bed?" I suggest, and she looks at me as though I've lost my mind for a moment.<br>"Oh, Elaine," She drawls, in an octave higher than her normal voice, "I'm not even tired." She shifts on her feet, and I take her hands, an idea to get her to retire forming.  
>"Your feet must hurt, hmm? Not to mention your head. A little nap is all we're going to take, and you'll feel better."<br>I've convinced her. Cyril and Petyr politely excuse us from the party, and I thank Zain along the way. Genevieve does as well, but I know if she hadn't been drinking, she wouldn't have kissed his cheek in thanks. Cyril does a remarkable job at helping Genevieve to her room, and it's not too apparent the future Queen of Astor is drunk, to outsiders. He keeps her entertained with meaningless chatter, and she tells him he's funny. Petyr sighs next to me, on my own arm, as he's escorting me, though I'm sober enough, since I did have a glass or two.  
>"Ah, Petyr, I do hope you had a splendid time." He must have been asked to dance by one or two ladies. Petyr nods.<br>"I do think parties aren't for butlers, if I may say so, Your Highness."  
>Cyril opens Genevieve's door to her room to the right of us, and I stop at my door, unlinking my arm from my butler's.<br>"I'm fine now, Petyr. Do tell the maid to come in, and Cyril," I turn to my sister's ginger servant, who just returned from sitting Genevieve on her bed. "Get two maids for my sister, and ask them if they can help her with a bath." That will sober her up, perhaps. I'll pay her a visit once that's over. The servants leave, and I step in my room.  
>Soon enough, the same maid from before has helped me out of my formal wear, and even combed my hair down from my intricate, curled bun. She is quite gentle with it. I ask her name, so I can tell Zain she is excellent with her job. She modestly tells me her name is Sybil. I thank her, and bid her leave.<br>When the door closes, I tie my robe over my silky nightdress, slipping on a pair of slippers to see my sister.  
>However, when I make it out to the hall, I am startled.<br>Prince Joshua, Crowned Prince of Dres Van, is out in the corridor, with purple pajamas. I might find that to be amusing, had I not almost shrieked in surprise.  
>"A-are those, bunny slippers?" I manage to ask, and his expression changes from concerned, to embarrassed.<br>"These were the doing of dear Prince Roberto." He mumbles, and pushes his hair back. "I was looking for his room, so he could kindly give me my slippers back."  
>I smile weakly, preparing to enter my sister's room. "Aw, I do think they suit you, Prince Joshua."<br>He is too surprised to give me an answer while I shut the door behind me to Genevieve's room.  
>She's sleeping, but I still go to her bedside, smiling for some reason. Maybe it was because I noticed her exhaustion in the plane earlier. I do hope she enjoyed herself.<br>I sneak out to the hall again, and Joshua is gone. Ah, I wonder if my slight tease would scare him away, along with my making him dance with someone else.  
>These thoughts are still with me when I sink into bed.<br>A prince in bunny slippers. What a silly thought.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning is met with a slight headache. I thought I slept off those few glasses of wine, but it seems as though they'll stick around for an hour or two. I ask for some aspirin with my morning cup of tea, and am told that my breakfast will be in the main dining room, along with the other royals that chose to accept Lord Michel's invitation. I nod, and tell Sybil I'll only take a while to shower.  
>I dress in casual clothes, slacks with a feminine flare, a white blouse, a fitted grey jacket, a decorative scarf, and flats. My hair I leave to Sybil, I already trust her judgement with it. While she's pinning it half of my hair up, I ask a question.<br>"Where did you learn to do hair so well?"  
>The maid blushes modestly. "I used to want to work as a hairdresser, Your Highness." Hmm, I wonder what made her change career plans. I don't undermine servants, I believe what they do for nobility is in a way noble themselves. I do not ask any further questions, and let her finish. My brown hair, is now half-pulled up in a lovely style, still having some curl from the night before.<br>I am shown the way to the dining room. Zain is the only butler in sight, so I take it that Cyril and Petyr are attending to Genevieve and I's preparations to leave. We weren't planning to stay for long, and my heart tugs to be home. A servant pulls out my chair for me, and I sit. The others seated at the table are the Prince Roberto, and Joshua, that I have been familiar with. Prince Wilfred of Philip sits at the left of Roberto, looking tired still, and Edward Levaincois is seated to the right of me. Glenn of Oriens is seated next to Joshua, and Prince Keith of the still-new country of Liberty, is seated at my left.  
>"Good morning," I say to all, and note that my sister still must be in bed. The state she was in last night doesn't surprise me that this is the outcome. I receive some other "Good morning"s in reply, and soon make my breakfast plate, with eggs, toast, sausage, and some fruit. I don't feel too hungry this morning, but don't want to peck at my meal like a bird.<br>The chatter isn't too much of chatter at all, mainly Roberto speaking with Wilfred, or smirking at a tease towards Joshua, who doesn't seem to want to hold a conversation with him. The interaction reminds me of something.  
>"Oh, Prince Joshua, did you by any chance, get your slippers returned?" I ask, after getting a drink of juice in front of me. The prince's cheeks turn pink. Roberto seems interested in this news.<br>"Ah, so you saw the pink bunny slippers, Princess Elaine? Don't you think they went well with his pajamas?" He smiles, and Joshua mutters something crossly at him. Prince Wilfred only seems half-interested in the conversation.  
>"I did get my slippers back, however." Joshua speaks up, before taking a spoonful of some porridge that's popular in Charles. Edward smiles next to me.<br>"Did you two bump into one another last night?" The silver-haired prince asked, eyes on me. I feel as though he's hinting at something, but I answer truthfully, seeing no need to tease poor Joshua further.  
>"I happened to see him when he was trying to find Prince Roberto's room. I was going to talk with my sister."<br>Roberto quirks up an eyebrow. "Speaking of Princess Genevieve, where is she?"  
>I don't answer, yet I can't shrug my shoulders and act as if I don't know. I make up a white-lie, "I believe she was talking with my father, and took her breakfast in her room." Certainly Cyril or Petyr would have known to send up a tray for her. My statement comes true, at least, in a way, when I'm nearly finished with my meal. The chatter at the table had turned to some minor scandal that happened to a Lord and Lady in Altaria, with Roberto knowing the details. It wasn't anything too terrible, but enough to capture their attention.<br>Petyr comes in, holding my personal cellphone. I had given it to him to hold onto, since I'm don't want to leave it around in a foreign place. He immediately apologizes for his intrusion.  
>"Your Highness," He says, towards me, and I motion for him to continue. "Your mother wishes to speak with you, it's about immediate diplomatic business."<br>I excuse myself from the table, saying it was nice to eat breakfast in the company of these princes, and I leave, heading out for the corridor. Petyr hands me my phone, and I tell him to stay with me, in case sudden changes to my schedule are made.  
>"Mother," I speak, standing in a position that won't hurt my feet if I'll be speaking for too long. "Petyr told me this was urgent. What is it?"<br>"Elaine, I know your plans are entirely much for this week, or this month, really, my dear," I can almost see her at her desk, where she did her own work, with her servants, and assistants around her. I honestly don't have a busy schedule, for once, only with some small events and such. "Also, your sister's schedule is, by opposition, rather full. My point being, I need you to take the responsibility of renewing the a trading contract."  
>I see where this is going. Diplomatic issues. A trading contract won't be too much of a problem. "Of course, Mother. I'll have it taken to-where must this contract be renewed?"<br>"One of our allies, dear. Dres Van. It seems that Prince Joshua will be the one to approve of it."  
>I hesitate. Dres Van isn't a far-off country, it's merely a few hours' drive from Nobel Michel. And it's just a few more hours on a plane to Astor, to home. I accept, for my mother. "I'll see to it that it's done. The papers have already been sent for me, correct?" My mother tells me that they are, and reminds me I musn't leave until I know they are safe with me, even though I already know so. I tell her I love her, and that I will see her within a few days. Genevieve will be leaving to see her today.<br>"Petyr, you will probably have been sent the changes to my schedule. See to it that we find a car to Dres Van."  
>I close my phone, and hand it to him. Petyr leaves, going to tell Cyril of the new plan for today. I inspect the view from the window in the corridor. Nobel Michel is as pretty as it is outside. There are still a few reporters loitering around the gates and the like. One or two perk up at the sight of a princess in the window, even though it's still too far away for a good picture. I smile, but close the curtains.<br>"I've heard that you've made plans to visit Dres Van?" A voice says behind me. I am surprised, even though I know who it is.  
>Prince Joshua is standing next to me, with a curious expression on his face. I confirm what Petyr must have told him. "Yes, there are some papers that are to be signed. I hope I wouldn't cause a problem."<br>He simply shakes his head. "If it's on business, there isn't any problem." However, I get the feeling there aren't too many visitors to his palace in Dres Van. Just the way he carries himself, and how he fairs around people. I still hope to acquaint myself with him, since it's been a long time since I've had people to consider good friends in nobility, unfortunately. "Do you have a way of getting there, yet?"  
>I shake my head. His offer is what makes me smile. He is indeed a good person. "I suppose there wouldn't be any trouble with letting you ride in my car. Along with your butler, if you intend to take him." Joshua says, peering half-interested at the window.<br>"Thank you very much. I'll accept that offer." I say, bowing my head, slightly.  
>Joshua takes his leave, giving me the time he intends to leave, since he apparently has a word or two to speak with Lord Michel.<br>I make my way to see how my sister is. I find Genevieve in a good state, though with a terrible achy head. Mine disappeared when I ate my breakfast. She seems happy for me to do something for Mother, and says she and Cyril will leave today, as well. She'll definitely have to hide her eyes from the cameras, otherwise there would be immediate, exaggerated rumors that would stretch the truth and say something absurd, like "The Future Queen's Struggle with Alcohol." Reporters seem to adore making things up as such. I have a sense of dislike for them, but I also think they do most of what they do because they have to make a living.  
>"Don't have too much fun without me." Genevieve says, smiling, as she makes her way to leave Nobel Michel. It's the middle of the afternoon, but she still carries herself as though she's tired. I hug her lightly, and Cyril helps her to the car, cameras flashing, but only capturing regular photos. Nothing that will be plastered over the news.<br>I wait an hour before I leave with Prince Joshua, having spent my time telling Zain that Sybil was particularly kind, and she is wonderful. The photos of Joshua and I being escorted out to the car together, might be of interest to the media, but there would soon be a statement of business from my father or mother, making the hasty reports of an "engagement" or even a "fling" between Joshua and I, fizzle out.  
>The car ride is what I expect, almost sadly, from Joshua. He is distant, with few words. Jan, his butler, is kind enough to inform me that I have a room prepared in the Dres Van palace. I thank him, and even thank Prince Joshua, who returns it with a simple, "It's simply mannerly conduct."<br>I have a feeling my time at Dres Van won't be too eventful. I'll certainly be home within two days, as this matter is nothing to take too much time over. However, I do plan on talking with Joshua more, and not all words had to be tied to diplomacy.


End file.
